


Better Love Story Than Twilight

by Stickyouinawormhole13



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Humour, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickyouinawormhole13/pseuds/Stickyouinawormhole13
Summary: “This is a romantic gesture, right?” Keith asked.“Probably,” Lance said wryly. “Romantic gestures are supposed to be obvious display of your eternal love for me, but you have subtlety of a hand grenade, so kudos to you.”





	Better Love Story Than Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> A standalone one shot from my fic Life As We Know It 
> 
> also Lance's first name is Alejandro here. Just a cute head canon heehee
> 
> XD

“Mullet, where are you taking me?” Lance asked as Keith held his hand, dragging him to some dirty street filled with sketchy punks. Yeah, it was totally Keith’s type of crowd. The only thing Keith asked Lance was to wear the darkest clothes he had and something vaguely dangerous looking. He’s also wearing eyeshadow in the shade of My Parents are Disappointed in Me. This worried Lance because this was Keith who has done very illegal and life-threatening things…sometimes not on purpose.

Why was he dating an adrenaline junkie?

At this point, Lance reconsidered his life choices. Keith was going to give him a heart attack in his fucking twenties. It’s like he enjoys shaving years off Lance’s lifespan.

So a lot of scenarios was swimming in Lance’s head. These are the things he has so far concluded as the most likely to happen:

  * Keith was actually a psychopath who had lured Lance with his pretty boy looks to kill him and chop him into tiny Lance-kabobs
  * Keith was in some sort of cult and was planning to use Lance as some sort of human sacrifice.If he wasn't going to end up throwing Lance into the depths of fiery hell, then he was probably going to do some weird-ass initiation and force him to converted into some extremist religion.
  * Keith was half-alien, shoving Lance into a spaceship to adopt purple, cat-like alien babies and never return to earth. Which was not really that bad, but Lance was going to miss his family terribly.



 

What if Keith was going to get them into jail? Lance didn’t think his family loved him enough to bail him out for joining his insane, sexy boyfriend with his schemes. They should have known him by now. Lance was so weak when it comes to broody, mullet-haired boys.

What if Keith is going to steal Lance’s money and leave him like the asshole is!? Lance had to cancel his Spotify subscription to fucking afford his meal plans.

In any case, Lance was totally screwed. And not in the good way, mind you.

(okay…maybe Keith had convinced him in his own devious evil ways that made Lance so weak in the knees. Oh my god.)

Keith was grinning like an evil mastermind. It was good look on him, totally fit him. Lance also liked Keith’s sleeping face. It brought out some very weird vibes when he told Keith this. He looked like such a sweet angel…from hell. Keith literally kicked Lance’s gut once while he dreaming because he was in some kind of Ninja-based land. With that, Keith impulsively bought an actual katana from Ebay. Thus the birth of the pet name ‘Samurai’.

.  
.  
.

“I like watching you sleep,” Lance said, with a love sick smile.

Keith leaned away, with shifting eyes. “What the actual fuck, Lance?

“C’mon Bella Swan, you look like a really cute raccoon on crack when you do,” Lance said, returning to his laptop, typing his two thousands word essay. Fuck you, Iverson. “Or maybe a panda…that’s totally cuter. A panda on crystal meth…”

Keith stared at him confusedly, sitting with crossed legs like some child. “Who the hell is Bella Swan?”

And then, Lance subjected him to the Twilight trilogy.

He stared at him haunted eyes. The bags under them even more prominent. It was like Keith was just transported to some shadow realm and returned twelve years later.

(because of that bullshit, Keith bit Lance’s neck with a extra pressure because sometimes he can be so petty.)

.  
.  
.

Lance went inside some butchering meat shop that smelled like pig guts and chicken shit. In all honesty, it smelled like regret.

Lance knew Keith was from Texas, but c’mon. Sometimes Lance can hear a bit of an accent from him…more evident when says shit like ‘y’all’ y’aint’ or worse…’howdy’. He was such a cliche, he didn’t even think it was funny anymore. Keith liked messing with him because he said ice cream was just frozen cow juice.

“Are you telling me you have some kind of fetish for dead animal bodies because…” Lance trailed away as Keith opened some kind of freezer door.

“Fuck my life. My sexy, psychopathic boyfriend is going to kill me with his katana. Well, it was a shitty life so far,” Lance thought morosely, ready to accept his grim fate. He was waiting for the cloth to gag him, the knife on his throat, or a potato sack over his head.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked with furrowed eyebrows. Ngh, Lance is so going to pluck the shit out of those caterpillars. “Why are you closing your eyes?”

Lance gave him a dumbfounded look. “You’re not gonna murder me and stuff my body into some fleshy mannequin?”

“What,” Keith deadpanned, as if to think ‘I’m dating a moron.’ “I’m not going to kill you, Alejan—Lance.”

Lance gave him a quick thumbs up.

“You literally sleep with a knife under your pillow,” Lance pointed out, he lifted his shirt revealing a protruding scar near his hip bone. “This isn’t helping you.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Keith winced, remembering that messy memory. His sheets were dyed red. Keith panicked for two whole minutes until Lance said to shut the fuck up and take him into the emergency room, knife still penetrated in his middle. “I wrap the knife in a scarf now though, so we don’t need to worry about that when we make out.”

“You are the worst,” Lance said flatly. “Where are we, Mullet?”

“Oh, this is ‘The Blade of Marmora,” Keith said with an excited smile. “Or the Blade.”

“That last part sounded really dirty.”

“Why must you do this?”

“Is this illegal because why is it underneath a rancid meat shop?”

Keith smirked, grabbing Lance wrist, pulling him down the hidden stairs. “Maybe.”

“You are going to drive me to an early grave,” Lance whined, allowing himself to be dragged away.

.  
.  
.

 

“An underground club...smells like teen spirit,” Lance stated as he stared at the flashing lights and scantily dressed people around him. “You know, I shouldn’t even be surprised. You are so horribly cliché.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. Lance’s hand twitched for his tweezers. “I thought you liked cliché.”

“Like romantic gestures, y’know,” Lance explained, staring at some guy’s hot pink mohawk. “Roses, serenading, strolls around the park, and I don’t know…sex on the beach?”

Keith gave him a blank look. “You don’t like roses, I don’t sing and we already do strolls in the park. Sex on the beach doesn’t seem sanitary—“

“Don’t you dare meme me—“

“I don’t like the sand. It’s coarse, rough and irritating—unlike you. You’re soft and smooth,” Keith said with a straight face because apparently he was emotionally paralysed.

“How the hell do you know that when you didn’t even know that Twilight existed?” Lance asked exasperatedly.

“It’s a better love story.”

“Oh my fucking God.”

 

.  
.  
.

 

“This is a romantic gesture, right?” Keith asked, moving in between crowds.

“Probably,” Lance said wryly. “Romantic gestures are supposed to be obvious display of your eternal love for me, but you have subtlety of a hand grenade, so kudos to you.”

“Yes, I am learning how to be a good boyfriend,” Keith said with so much fake cheer. “Progress. A for effort.”

“You are…I guess. And I appreciate it,” Lance said, squeezing his hand tenderly. “You don’t like my romantic gestures, though.”

Keith stared at him, and bit his piercing. He kissed Lance softly. “Don’t think that, please. I’m grateful, , I really am…they’re just seizure tier cringeworthy.”

“Okay, that was half super sweet and very offensive. How do you do that?”

“I just like being honest.”

 

“Oh, please,” Lance scoffed.

The band comes in. Silhouettes and shadows from different sizes.

“The band looks shady as fuck,” Lance commented with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey! It was my wet dream to meet these guys,” Keith exclaimed.

Oh, that escalated really fast. “Since it was a wet dream, there was an orgy right?”

Keith made a disgusted face. “Don’t be gross, let's just rave.”

Lance grinned, and made a rock sign. “Ready for the mosh pit, Shaka brah!

Keith looked offended, lowering Lance's hand down. “Don’t do that.”

A guitar started playing. The lights dimmed.

“And then it was time for Altea…to drown…in the sweet sorrow of…THE GENERALS.”

Lance turned his head away from Keith, watching the band on stage. They wore tatted purple clothing and had rugged looks with instruments strapped on their bodies. They looked like…talent homeless people, but like really pretty homeless people with studs and…things. Okay, let’s just say they all look like different versions of a female Keith. One of them had a cat perched on their shoulder.

People cheered from everywhere, screaming their names.

“Oh yeah!”

Lights flashed. Lance caught a glimpse of a tall silhouette.

Keith yelled over the noise, jumping up and down enthusiastically. “That guy on stage?”

“Wait— that’s not a girl?” Lance yelled back. He gave a low whistle. “Damn, mami.”

Keith glared at him, and punched his shoulder. Ow.

“Oh yeah!”

The lights flashed. Silver hair shone from the light beams.

“That’s—“

The light flashed. The man removed his coat. A wicked joker smirk in place, slitted eyes glinting with malice. Lance eyes widened. His chest constricted like a viper wrapping around his body.

“Oh yeah!”

oh Fuck

“Oh yeah!”

 

Oh FUCK

“Oh yeah!”

 

OH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU--

“Oh yeah!”

“ —Lotor .”

Lance swallowed the lump in his throat. His body tensed. He avoided Keith’s eyes, shifting side to side. He muttered something quietly, enough for Keith’s ears.

“I know.”

“Oh yeah!”

Keith looked at him incredulously, analysing Lance’s uncomfortable face. “You know?”

“Oh yeah!”

Lance grimaced. His awkward smile wobbling.

Keith’s stony faced turned into one of shock, and then anger. So much anger.

.  
.  
.

“So I had this boyfriend. I actually liked him at first.”

“Yeah,” Keith looked at him with interested eyes, abandoning his physics book. Whatever, Keith is smart. He slept in class, and yet still manage to pass with flying colours.

“He was pretty shitty. Hot, but shitty. I felt like I was being paid to be his boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

“He cheated on me on some hooker,” Lance grimaced, flipping through his comic book. “Her name was like Calista…or Acxa? I don’t fucking know.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah! I don’t tolerate being treated like that,” Lance said, crushing the pages, “so I stole his wallet and his money without his consent.”

“ What !” which sounded impressively like Lil Jon.

“He was like some sort of wannabe Gerard Way," Lance rolled his eyes. “He was filthy rich. I didn’t do much with it except buying two bags of Chipotle.”

“I don’t believe you,” Keith said with narrowed eyes. “You can’t just take a rock star’s money without spending more than a little."

Lance was quiet, pursing his lips. They continued their staring contest until Lance sighed and relented. “I took his credit card details and booked by myself a session in a spa and bought some really expensive bath bombs from Lush.”

“And…?”

Lance pouted at him, and mumbled, “…Patron Tequila…”

 

.  
.  
.

 

“IS THAT YOUR MOTHER FUCKING EX!?”

Lance chuckled nervously.

“OH YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!”

Lance smiled wider, feeling his lips split. glancing at Lotor’s piercing gaze. The Legolas look-alike blew him an air kiss. Lance squirmed. “Surprise, baby.”

Keith spun his head to the stage, meeting the leering blue eyes of the singing man. His snapped from Lance and Lotor repeatedly. His jaw clenched.

“Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when!” Lotor whipped his long luscious hair.

“Our common goal was waiting for the world to end,” he whipped his hair, his lips pouted. It was coated a sinful red. Lance remembers the lipstick staining his mouth.

“Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend!” Lance remembered his sneers, teases, the smell of his dollars,the texture of his itchy fur coat.

“You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again.” He remembered that goddamn, stupid British accent.

Lance grinded his teeth together.

Lotor gave him a quick wink.

Keith gave him a dark look that could send anyone to a different dimension.

The drummer pounded a rapid beat.

Lotor rolled his eyes, and spun his heel, dragging the mic with him. He wore six inched combat boots with studs around the edges, but still moved like a graceful swan. His nails were painted black, like Keith's, except it was sharp like talons.

“Send you my love on a wire  
Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh  
From you…”

Lance really wanted to leave now, but they were compressed with the cheering crowd. They were bouncing up and down, raising their smelly armpits. Lance felt Keith’s tightening hold on their sweaty hands. He felt his nails embedding half moons on his.

Lotor started clapping his hands above his head, urging the crowd to do the same. Lance and Keith were the only ones who stood frozen in their spot.

“Got balls of steel, got an automobile, for a minimum wage  
Got real estate, I'm buying it all up in outer space  
Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend  
You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick, the past again…”

Lance buried his face into his hands, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. Yeah, he definitely needed some balls of steel to survive this.

.  
.  
.

 

“I used to think that you just asked me out of random, or maybe you had a death wish…but you actually do have a type.”

“I’m weak against men with high cheekbones,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms. “Mullet, you have this Ramona Flowers vibe. That is a huge factor for my attraction towards you…did you always have red hair?”

Keith sighed and shook his head.

He lifted a hand and said, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Seventy-four?”

Keith clenched his teeth. “Actually, I’m flipping the bird at you. You’re drunk.”

“I am not!” Lance said as he pouted, then cocked his head to the side. “Keith, are you doing some Harry Potter Metamorphmagus shit because you’re hair just turned pink.

“Okay, we are leaving right now,” Keith said, dragging Lance away from the bar. “I should give you some kind of name when you’re drunk...What about Charles?”

BITCH , Lance needed like a bottle of vodka in his system because his current broody boyfriend who might just be raging psycho just saw his totally hot Legolas-lookalike rockstar ex-boyfriend giving him looks.

He felt like he was tripping on acid…or he just entered to the Twilight Zone.

“For fuck’s sake, let me just get this, Christ,” Lance slurred, downing the shot. He felt so hot wearing his inky-black clothes. His sweat stuck uncomfortably on his skin.

“Alejan—I MEAN LANCE!” Keith growled. “I MEAN CHARLES!?”

“FUCK, KEITH! JUST WAIT— OH MY GOD. STOP BEING SO JEALOUS. I AM OVER HIM,” Lance screamed, swaying a little. He downed another shot. “So much for a romantic gesture, huh!? Fuckin’ prick.”

“This is why I didn't want you drink…you turn into some crazy maniac,” Keith groaned, pulling Lance from his seat.

“LET GO OFF ME!” Lance yelled, pushing Keith. “Keith!”

Lance suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced on it and saw sharp claws.

“…Lotor.”

“Long time no see, Blue.”

Shit just got real .

“Hey. Now piss off,” Lance said, his head getting woozy. “Your hair is longerrrrr.”

“Oh my, you really going to greet a dear old friend like that?” Lotor smirked, behind him were his posse of threatening women. Lance recognized them, but he sort of forgot their names.

 

The big she-hulk with pigtails was Emperor Zurg

The one that looked like she had a stick up her ass was Calista/Acxa

The one that looks like a dumb cheerleader was Scissors

The one who had a cat that wore a hoodie enough to cover her upper half face and kind of looked liked that purple bat Pokemon was Warty/Farty/Naruto

Lance wasn’t good at keeping track of names.

 

But he didn’t care because he was going to shit a snowstorm. A freaking blizzard.

“You are an asshole who has daddy issues, go away,” Lance slurred, collapsing into his chair, and he sniffed the air. “And you smell like diet coke.”

“So aggressive…You know I liked it better when you were very submissive.”

“Blast to past, you still kept that My Little Pony charm?” pointing towards the charm on his bracelet.

“It's sentimental,” Lotor said breezily. White strands of hair plastered on his forehead. “You did give it to me after all.”

“Yeah, cause you kept buying me expensive shit,” Lance said wryly. “You were like my unofficial sugar daddy.”

“So…who's this?” Lotor laid his eyes on his very hot and totally-can-kill-you-with-a-pencil boyfriend.

Keith’s eye twitched. “His boyfriend.”

Lance’s stupid heart fluttered.

“Yeah! We have sex …like all the time!” Lance blurted out, a sleazy smile on place.

Keith blushed. “Uh…yeah. That too.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, so go away, you demented Rapunzel,” Lance said, slapping his face weakly. “That was supposed to be a bitch slap, but you’re really not worth it.”

Keith pinched the bridge off his nose. “Lance…”

Lance stalked towards Lotor with his teeth bared. “YEAH! He's really hot too, right!? My boyfriend has belly button piercing, you shit!”

“Quit objectifying me!” Keith shrieked, growing redder. “AND NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT. OH MY GOD.”

“Shut up, Mullet,” Lance whipped his head with a harsh glare. “I’m trying to be savage! I’ll suck you off you later.”

Keith blinked slowly. Trying to process his statement. His eyes widened and gawked, his entire body going hot.

“REALLY THEN, WHAT’S HIS SIZE?” Lotor yelled loudly.

“EIGHT INCHES, BITCH.” Lance yelled louder.

“LANCE!” Keith yelled loudest.

“Keith, shut up! I really wish that was a lie, but it’s not! TAKE A COMPLIMENT, YOU EMO ASS POP-TART.”

“Did you just call me a Pop-tart!?”

Lotor sneered, “I knew that you were a slut.”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE THAT I SLEEP AROUND?” Lance said, poking his chest with a toothpick. Lotor flinched. “AT LEAST I DON’T LOOK LIKE AN EMOTIONAL LESBIAN.”

“…What is that even?” Lotor asked confusedly, but shook it off, and flipped his hair…emotionally.

“AND JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE VEGAN DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF US.” Lance stood up from his chair, and growled. “And those hands! You’re nasty. Get yourself a manicure.”

Somehow a crowd formed around them, zeroing into this debacle. Someone yelled from the back, “ROAST! WE HAVE ROAST WITH LOTOR AND SOME GUY WITH A FLAT ASS.”

“I DO NOT HAVE A FLAT ASS!” Lance yelled back. Oh hell no, he does not! It’s nice okay!? It’s not as good as Keith’s because that boy is thicc.

“It’s not that flat, douchebag!” Keith said back. Lance kissed his cheek in thanks.

“You…wanker!” Lotor bit back, looking very accomplished. “Bloody wanker!

“Oooh! He’s BRITISH!” Someone said, “THAT MAKES IT HARSHER. OOOH BURN!”

“Would you quit it with the fake British accent?” Lance said with a raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You do realise you’re from New Hampshire?”

Lotor kicked a random lamp that no one noticed was there. It broke into a million pieces. Sparks coming out of it. He glared at it with great contempt.

Keith stared at him, and then at the broken lamp. “Why did you break the lamp?”

Lotor glared at him as if he said something absurd. “ Nobody shines brighter than me .”

Keith wanted slam his face on the wall. “Am I the only sober one here?”

“I’m SOBER!” Lance shrieked, facing the other way, talking to giant ice statue.

“Christ,” Keith winced.

Lance threw his drink at him. Keith gaped, and grabbed Lance, hauling him and his flat ass like a fireman.

Lotor sputtered, wiping off the rum from his face. His two thousand dollar fur coats stained with red. He sort of looked like Carrie from Prom before she went on rampage and killed everyone and their boyfriends.

In which everyone is Lance, and the boyfriend is Keith.

They should run by now.

 

“ZETHRID! ATTACK!”

Keith ran like the roadrunner away from the human rhino.

“AWWWW, LOTOR YOU WUSS! DON’T SEND DRAG QUEEN SHREK TO DO YOUR DIRTY WORK,” Lance spat. Someone threw an empty can at him. “TRY ME BITCH!”

“Lance, shut the fuck up!” Keith yelled. “You’re going to get us killed!”

“The only thing that can shut me up is my Mama’s goddamn chancla!”

“FLAT ASS! YOU ARE MY IDOL EVEN IF YOUR EYELASHES ARE UNEVEN,” a high-pitched person screamed, followed by drunken cheers.

“Thanks, hon!” Lance said with a smile, and then frowned. “MY ASS ISN’T FLAT WHAT THE FU-“

Keith covered his mouth with a napkin as Lance yelled muffled Spanish insults while pounding poor Keith’s back.

“YOU’RE THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY LOW LIFE!”

“DUDE, SAAAAAVAAAAAAGE. STEP ON MY FACE!”

“Am I seriously the only one sober in this fucking club?” Keith asked completely baffled.

“THANK YOU FOR JOINING THE MOSH PIT, SHAKAH BRAH!”

Lance gave Keith a triumphant smirk. “See! People say it.”

Keith deadpanned, very unamused.

“Quit being a grumpy cat, Keithy-boy,” Lance said, and then widened his as if he had discovered El Dorado. “Oh my god…Keithy…Hello Keithy.”

Keith sighed painfully.

.  
.  
.

Lance threw his keys at Keith's face.

Lance’s face flushed. He then pointed at himself. “Este tipo esta jalo y no puede manejar.”

Keith closed his eyes and counted to ten. Patience yields focus.

“I’m guessing you're saying that you can't drive?”

“Sí,” Lance said, and then face plants on to the dirty pavement. Keith’s heart stopped.

“Por favoooooooor…”

“I really do think you have a drinking problem…” Keith said, sitting down with him. He placed his head on his lap and combed his sweaty bangs. He leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“Keithy…you’re cradling me in your arms~~”

“I sure am.”

“I’m sober…very sober!”

“No. You’re not.”

“Whaaaaat? You don’t believe me?” Lance pouted.

“Nah,” Keith shook his head.

“Keith…you’re the man of my dreams,” Lance slurred, poking his cheek.

Keith looked away. “Yeah…you too.”

“You're the man of my dreams.”

“Okay.”

“You’re the man of my dreams.”

“Okay.”

“You’re the what to my Fuck.”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

Keith stared at him, with strange eyes. A chuckle erupted from his throat, until a steady stream came out turning into a burst of laughter, his entire body shaking. His cheeks hurt from smiling.

 

Lance poked at the piercing on his lip. “Keith…I lied.”

Keith stopped, and something lurched from his chest. “…What?”

Lance stared at him seriously, bearing the grim news.

Keith’s heart pounded.

Lance stared at him sadly.

“I’m drunk.”

Keith hit his chest without mercy. “Stop.”

“I really am drunk.”

“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.”

“But my name is Lance…”

Keith thumped his head against the card door. “No, you’re stupid. And drunk. Very much so.”

“Oh…I’m stupid.”

“Yep.”

“I’m stupidly in love with you.”

Keith groaned. “Why must you do this?”

“I like seeing you flustered,” Lance said cheekily. “Get frustrated by me, iron-mask.”

Lance yawned, snuggling into Keith’s stomach. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then sleep.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…” Lance said, and sighed. He felt darkness envelope him.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> SONG: BLACK SHEEP - METRIC


End file.
